Partners
by Sallychan-Stories
Summary: Max and Scarlett became partners again after TDPI, but split again because of Max's arrogant, ungrateful attitude. Could a couple years without his much-more-successful partner give his ego a well-needed once over? Probably. Max/Scarlett, rating subject to change. :-)
1. The Reunion

AN: Before I start, I'd like to thank everyone that reviewed my last Scax story "Evil Prom" ;3; It means a HUGE TON, honestly. I'd also like to make note that this fic talks about all kind of medical, injury-type things like being shot, having blood work done, surgery, etc., just as a head's up in case anyone needs it.

For reference, Scarlett and Max are 21! :-)

* * *

It's a strange world you become a part of when you're evil. There are rules and forums and websites just for the "officially" evil—like a little community of the damned. You get your ID number, an "associates" page, an "alias" page, everyone knows your MO—and your communications number—but that's "okay" because of the _rules_ put in place by the powers that be. There are no _assassinations_ villain-to-villain; that would make the name mean little more than what _organized crime_ might mean, a glorified set of street gangsters, even. Surprise attacks maybe, but never anything that the other villain wouldn't be able to fight off, or what would be deemed "fair". No, there were rules about these kind of things, which kept villains safe, even from each other, and thus kept _evil_ safe—though that's not to say that villains stuck their necks out for each other, which made the events of the day all the more bizarre.

Scarlett was already pissed off from being tricked into another villainess' lair, and then being run around like a lab rat in a maze from the laser fire of said villainess' defense system, but her anger managed to climb another tier when she heard her blundering ex-partner burst through doors behind her. He began to monologue angrily at the opposing villainess—who was perched a level above them to better see Scarlett frantically running around for her life—when Scarlett spun her head around to cut him off.

"Would you _shut up!?_ What are you even _doing_ here—go away!" She yelled back to him, still posed to run at any moment. Max's finger, which had previously been extended in the air, curled down dejectedly.

"I'm.. here to help you! Your communicator was damaged—I thought you were in distress!" He held his palms out in defense. Scarlett closed her eyes, clenching her fists and jaw in anger simultaneously.

"What part of _"not partners anymore"_ do you not understand!? Leave me alone, I don't need your help." She finished coldly before turning her attention back to her rival.

"Ooh, _harsh_, Scarlett." The other woman teased. "He was only trying to help." Scarlett sneered, trying her best to control her horrible temper.

"Shut up! I don't need anyone's help." She yelled up to her, ignoring the slight glimpse of Max she saw in her peripheral vision. Max slid behind one of the many huge generators protruding from the metal floor, scared out of his mind, but determined to help his former partner whether she wanted him to or not. He brushed his coat to the side to grab his null ray, and as he brought his sight back up, he gasped in horror. Scarlett was in a heated argument now with the other villainess, and completely unaware of one of the laser heads slowly turning to point at her back. Without thinking, Max ran for her as the tip of the gun began to light up. He called for her right before he plowed into her side as the laser fired, and sent them both rolling across the floor. Scarlett went to growl at her dazed ex-partner before the lasers pointed to her again, now under the control of her rival. She ducked away behind the generator she and Max had landed beside and noticed Max's null ray lying at her feet. She picked it up and popped out from behind the generator, shooting a clean shot at the rival villainess and freezing her in place. With their master unable to work the controls, the lasers continued to burn holes in the last place they had been aimed at, which would make them much easier to avoid. Scarlett sighed, angry and exhausted from the whole ordeal, and round the generator again to where Max was laying on his stomach still.

"Get up, you oaf." Scarlett tossed the gun at him, but got no response when it struck him in the arm. She breathed out angrily and walked around to his other side. "_**Max**_—" Her anger at him was cut short from a gasp—her own, she realized—at the sight of the blood pooling under him. On his lower right side there was a burnt hole, where the laser he pushed her from bore into him through his coat. Scarlett covered her mouth, momentarily unsure of what to do, before dropping to his side and shaking him.

"Max, wake up! You're losing a lot of blood!" She tried her best to not sound panicked. When she got no response she placed two fingers against his neck, hoping for a pulse. Scarlett felt a tinge of relief at the soft thumping below her digits, but knew that it was hardly good news. She rolled him over and buried her arms under him, hooking them around his chest and heaving him up. She groaned at how much fatter he'd gotten since they had last worked together, before dragging him around the many of stationary lasers that were still drilling into the walls and floors. She finally made it to the dock that she had landed her multi-purpose vehicle in and threw him into the passenger seat unkindly. She got into the driver's seat and looked at him angrily as his blood leaked out onto her upholstery. "_Don't you dare die_."

* * *

Scarlett sighed and rested her tired fingers on the keyboard. She looked down at the worn keys tiredly, listening to the slow, rhythmic beeps of Max's vitals, before turning her head slightly to look at him. She blinked slowly through her exhausted stare, unconfident any more that he would wake up any time soon. It had been a few days now since he had decidedly buried his normal, cowardly self beneath his heel and chose to "come to her rescue", which of course had resulted in him horribly injuring himself. She had had to induce him into a coma to repair some of the more damaged tissues from the laser fire, and then set him up on some robotic antibodies to rebuild the rest of his wounded flesh. She had removed him from his breathing tube once she had finished the procedure, which should have released him from his coma, but instead, his lazy self had decided to remain in it. Scarlett rubbed her eyes—that wasn't true, she knew, he had always been the one between them to wake up early.

"I have other things to do, you know." She spoke to her unconscious ex-partner calmly. "Not that you would take that into consideration, even if you _weren't_ in a coma."

She stared at him, knowing he wouldn't respond, but still somehow expected him to. Their partnership had ended over two years ago now, and yet she could remember all their arguments and dissatisfactions with each other so clearly, as if just being here with him now had brought her back to that period of her life. He would have said: _"Well you should have considered planning your schedule better."_ or maybe _"How is it my fault you don't schedule your time better?"_ she thought to herself, knowing his arrogance as if it were her own.

"At least I deserved to be arrogant." She spoke to him again. Again he didn't answer. Scarlett sighed, unhappy with having him here, and unhappy with herself for bothering, before standing up and walking towards the doorway. She stopped at the end of the bed where Max lay to look at him, as if giving him one last chance to wake up in her presence, before continuing out of the room.

* * *

She had been sitting in her main computer room for half the day now, trying to idle her buzzing mind with busywork, when one of her monitors flashed at her, lighting up with new, white text that made the screen glow brighter.

_Subject: Conscious, _it said.

Scarlett felt ridiculous with how quickly she walked from her control room, down to the second level of her lab, and to the corridor she was keeping Max retained in. The clicking heels of her boots seemingly mocked her as the sound bounced off the walls and back to her. _Look how worried you are_, they laughed in the back of her head, but she ignored them. The only thing she was "worried" about was being indebted to an idiot like her ex-partner. She stopped in front of the door, suddenly alone in the silence of the corridor, and braced herself for what was sure to be an annoying exchange, before entering the passcode to the door and continuing inside.

Max didn't move, but she saw his eyes flicker towards the door before settling on her in surprise. He surely hadn't expected to end up in _her_ lair again, she was certain. Scarlett folded her hands behind her back, a bad habit she inherited from him, and watched him as he laid unmoving before her. The door slid shut again after a moment, leaving the couple with a reaffirmed awkward silence, only accompanied by the beeping of the machines recording Max's condition. A few seconds passed before she finally spoke to him.

"Max." Was all she could muster, which she was quick to ridicule herself for. There was no reason to be uncomfortable, even if the last time she'd been face-to-face with him was when she told him very colorfully where he could stick his plans for their future together. Her lips pursed and frowned at the memory a moment before focusing again on the ailing man in front of her. "How are you feeling?"

Max seemed to be in somewhat of a daze, and only slightly, sadly, lowered his eyebrows at her hollow question. He blinked slowly and frowned, fidgeting his shoulders in an attempt to help himself into an upright position, before grunting in pain and lying flat again. Scarlett raised a brow, slightly amused, as he muttered curses under his breath.

"What the Hell _happened?_" His voice was coarse from the pain reverberating from his side, and his face pinched as he ended his question. Scarlett sighed through her nose before walking across the end of the bed and to the computer. She bent over and began typing, checking to make sure all of his vitals were stable, and instructing the computer to add a heavier dose of morphine to his IV drip.

"You got shot." She managed to answer him. "By a laser."

"_A laser?_ Oh." Max grimaced as his last memories before he lost consciousness returned to him. He lowered his mouth into a frown, focusing his attention to his right side, and wondered how bad the injury had been when it was inflicted.

"That was five days ago, though." Scarlett added as she stood up fully. Max turned his head to her in surprise.

"_Five days—!?_" His shock quickly twisted into pain as he tried to sit up again without thinking, and he writhed for a moment, covering his face with his hand to subdue the agonizing ache in his side. Scarlett watched him with little empathy.

"Yes, five days. I had to induce you into a coma to repair the damage to your liver, right kidney and colon." She spoke with as little emotion as she could. She paused a beat before continuing, sounding more accusatory than she would have liked. "I've never seen you act so recklessly."

Max had his head turned away from her now, but still bristled slightly at her comment. He frowned again, knowing she was right. Evil doesn't try and push someone out of the way of danger—not like that, anyway. Not with so much emotion and fear of possibly losing that person, and definitely not with the risk of your own life, especially if you're not cohorts with that person any more, and said person has openly hated you for years now. He lowered his eyes shamefully, unable to escape the concern for her that he still had.

"You weren't hurt?" He kept his voice low, afraid of what her response would be. Scarlett inhaled sharply, immediately filling with anger at his question. She hated him, everyone knew, and his sudden compassion was not only sickening, but infuriating. She didn't want him to _care_ about her, she didn't even want him to _look_ at her, but she refused to let him ruin her cold demeanor like he used to when they were teenagers, so she answered calmly.

"No." She responded, tightening her fist to contain her temper when she saw him smile at that, his face still turned from her. He rolled his head over to look at her.

"I'm glad, for that." Max murmured, trying to smile as genuinely as he could at her, in hopes she would believe he meant it. Scarlett stared at him, feeling her disgust boiling up her neck and into her ears. She wasn't sure what he was playing at, but she refused to be a part of it.

"Your condition is improving, but very slowly. The nanobots are keeping any infection at bay, but that also means the wound remains open as they work." Scarlett turned her attention to one of the monitors that was charting his data. "I'm not yet certain when you'll be well enough to leave."

She refused to look at him again, but could feel his pleasant mood radiating against her side. Max sighed, settling his hands over his chest.

"I suppose there's nothing else to do but sleep it off then." He mused, trying to settle his head into the pillow. Scarlett sneered slightly at the casual mood he was trying to create.

"I suppose there isn't." She turned heel at that and headed towards the door. "I'll have the droids bring you something to eat in a few hours."

"Scarlett." Max said hurriedly, afraid she would disappear out of the door before he could call to her again. She stopped in the doorway, looking at him over her shoulder silently. He tried to smile again. "I.. never thought you would want to help me."

Scarlett glowered at him, though he was unable to see, and turned her head away from him again.

"I'm not helping you. I refuse to owe you anything, especially my life, _Max_." She spoke coldly, before leaving him alone in the room.

* * *

Scarlett returned to check on her would-be patient late that night, and Max greeted her with a smile. He had the droids adjust his bed so he could lay at an incline, and was now comfortable and fed. Scarlett ticked an eyebrow up at his smile, unwilling to return one to him.

"Hello, Scarlett." His smile went lopsided slightly. "I wouldn't have even guessed it was 2:00 AM, my times are all mixed-up."

Scarlett held her sneer down, still desperate to keep herself sober in the face of her former partner. She walked to the computer again and analyzed the new data, satisfying herself that the wound to his colon wouldn't reopen from his eating.

"You ate?" She asked him, though she already knew the answer, as she sat down at the desk, intent on further study into his data.

"Yes. Your droids aren't the best cooks though. I hope _you_ don't rely on them for meals." Max chuckled, careful to not strain his injury. His face fell in worry when Scarlett shot him a nasty look. "Kidding! I was only joking, Scarlett."

He frowned more when she ignored his excuse, returning to her work sourly. Max knew he was bad with social interactions, but Scarlett had been the exception to that in the later years of his adolescence. He looked down sadly at the idea that that too had ended with their partnership. He remained quiet as she typed on the keyboard, consumed with ignoring him now. After a few minutes, he couldn't bear the awkward silence any longer and spoke up again.

"I'm sorry—I really am grateful for all of this, you know.." He trailed off, unsure of what to say to sound genuine to her. Scarlett stiffened, trying not to shake with her rising upset. Max continued. "I really do appreciate you caring for me when—"

"_Just_—" Scarlett interrupted him angrily, clenching her fist and closing her eyes tightly. Max lowered his eyebrows, very worried now. Scarlett took a breath before finishing with as much cold harshness as she could bite out. "Just—_shut up_, would you!?"

"Scarlett.." Max lowered his shoulders sadly. "I only want to thank you for—"

"_I don't __**want**__ you to thank me!_" She shouted at him, standing up from her chair to loom over him. "I don't want you to _smile _at me, I don't want you to _talk_ to me, I don't even want you to _be here!_ The _only_ thing I _want_ is for you to regain your ability to walk, so you can get _the Hell out of my liar!_"

Scarlett breathed out angrily, sucking in breathes past her teeth in hopes of regaining her composure. She set a hand over her eyes, gripping her own face furiously when she realized how she'd let herself falter in front of him again. She didn't look at Max again as she hurried from the room, repulsed with herself and the situation as a whole.

Max sat in his bed, deflated and mournful of himself. He looked up at the lights as they began to dim, before returning his gaze down to the white sheets he was tucked into. No matter how much time went by, he admitted sadly to himself, she would never forgive him. But why should she, with the way he had regarded her as his partner in evil? He had never realized how badly he used to treat her until she screamed it to his face when she left, and even then he had doubted it. It was the months and months since then that really affirmed it for him; that he had treated her little better than he would treat one of the droids—the prototypes of the ones she used now—that they had made together. It was shameful, especially once he realized how desperately he had depended on her. Scarlett was the glue for all of their inventions and plots, he knew now. He might have been the one to pitch ideas and make prototypes, but she had been the one that had perfected them all. In the years since she left, he had unfortunately come to the realization that he was little more than a failure without her, and it hurt to see how high she rose in the villain ranks without him there to weigh her down.

And here he sat now, once again a burden to her.

Max sighed, sinking his shoulders impossibly lower. He had hoped that maybe there was still affection, even if only minuscule, in her heart for him—maybe some better memories of their time together that still hung around in the far corners of that evil, ingenious brain of her's—but he was sure now, that no, there was not.

* * *

It was mid-morning, the day after her outburst at Max, and Scarlett sat in her control room, once again trying to distract herself from the man buried away in the recesses of her laboratory. She sipped at her coffee, which would have been tea if she hadn't been kept up all night by her own fury. She had had a complete fit in her bedroom after she blew up at Max, much to her embarrassment, and had spent another good portion of the night cleaning up the mess she created from throwing various things at the walls. She could have had some of the droids clean it up for her, but she felt as though forcing herself to clean it up made for a good self-punishment. She should be able to control herself, she thought, especially around a bedridden Max.

"God, do you infuriate me." Scarlett muttered against the lip of her coffee mug, watching the data from Max's room continue across one of her monitors. She had barely set down her mug when the same monitor burst into red, flashing warningly. As she snapped her attention back to it, she froze in silent horror at what it read. All of Max's vitals had completely flat-lined.

Scarlett burst into the second floor of the lab, sprinting for Max's room. She entered the passcode in a panic and ran into the room, and was greeted by the grating sound of the vitals monitor flat-lining, but nothing else. She stood in frantic dumbfoundment as she realized Max was not in the room at all. It was only when she looked to the floor did she see the trail of blood drippings, some of which she had accidentally stepped in. Her eyes followed it to the doorway, and then into the hallway. The trail went the opposite direction of the way she came. She hurried after the line of droplets, which got bigger with every stride she took, uncertain about what had happened, but was sure the person bleeding was her moronic ex-partner, Max.

She turned down another corridor, and saw him at the opposite end of it with his back to her, hobbling along and steadying himself against one of the walls. Scarlett felt a tinge of relief at seeing he wasn't under any kind of attack, but quickly made her way to him to usher him back into his room.

"Max—!" She yelled as she caught up to him, making him turn his head in slight panic, before looking away and cursing. Scarlett grabbed a hold of his shoulder. "Max, what are you doing—"

Max twisted his shoulder away from her, digging his left hand against his wounded side. He bit back the pain that came with moving and settling his right arm on the wall again for balance.

"Leave me." He managed before sniffed harshly, again trying to cope with the pain of his injury. Scarlett looked at him in bewilderment before grabbing at his arm again.

"Max, you need to—" She gasped when he swung his arm at her, smearing blood onto her lab coat as he did. He looked to the unintended stain in surprise, before hissing and bringing his arm back to clutch his side again. Scarlett furrowed her eyebrows in concern. "Max."

"_I don't want to be here!_" He yelled, startling her. He clenched his fist, trying to force it into the wall, and gripped at his bleeding side desperately. His voice was forced and raspy as he tried to speak. "I don't want to be here—_I can't_. I can't stay here, knowing how much you hate me—how bad you want me _gone_."

Scarlett watched his fist tremble as he spoke, pained beyond the injury to his side, only to notice that it was his entire body that was shaking. She realized he was going to collapse, and quickly lowered herself down to him, holding his ribs to keep him upright. He sobbed a little as she did, and she noticed his face wasn't just wet with little sweat beads, but also lines of tears, though if they were from his physical pain or not she couldn't tell. Scarlett frowned, momentarily concerned with the shaking, bleeding man in her arms.

"Just let me leave." Max groaned, resting against her arm and the wall. Scarlett's frown turned angry at that. He never thought out his ridiculous plans.

"And where will you go, hm? Bleeding like this? If you find your way out of my laboratory, then you'll just _walk home?_ Is that it?" She sneered, careful to make sure her questions were just cynical enough. Max looked to her with confused, sad eyes, as though he hadn't thought of answers to these questions prior to her asking them, before lowering his head feebly. Scarlett's expression softened at that, frowning almost sadly at him now. "Max. You're bleeding everywhere. Let's return to your room."

Max wouldn't look at her, but nodded and muttered an "okay", before letting her lead him back down the corridors and to the safety of his medical bed.

* * *

AN: Wow! That got angsty fast huh? :-( Poor Max, even though he was a total horror when they were younger. Please R&amp;R, I desperately need reviews/feedback to know that there's at least a tiny audience waiting for more!


	2. I Hate You, I Really Do

AN: Finally an update! I'm an unfortunately slow writer—sorry guys! :-(

Big thanks to _JokerCarnage5_, _OFIXD_, _Vicious0_, _Umeki-Nara_, _Mystique84_, and all of the guests that reviewed the first chapter! I'm glad you all like it, and find it in-character ;w; I love and appreciate the feedback a ton! I hope ya'll like this one just as much; we're finally getting into some rather 'intimate' territory in this one. ;-)

* * *

Scarlett had managed to settle Max back into his makeshift medical bed with a little help from her droids, and then had begun her assessment of the damage to his injury meticulously. His adventure into the labyrinth of her lair's hallways had cost his body at least a few days' work of repair to his muscle tissue, which meant his stay with her would be extended at least a week longer. Scarlett sighed in aggravation as she watched a pair of droids clean the blood—fresh and dried—off of Max's right side and leg. She thought for a moment in-between typing condition updates into the Max's medical log, that it could be seen as odd to be so casual about having your ex-partner be more-or-less nude behind you. Of course, she wasn't directly looking, and Max was covering his "private area" with a sheet due to what is probably the _only_ hint of humility inside of his soul, but it would probably still be seen as socially awkward. Not that society has any inclination that a woman of science such as herself has no apprehension about a nude body, or further, that Max's nude body isn't anything she hasn't seen before. Not that they were ever lovers, no, but living with Max had its fair share of run-ins with either of them in compromising situations. Scarlett wrinkled her nose at the idea of a sexual relationship between them, and the aggressive rumors that there certainly _had_ been, before turning to the man in question. The droids had replaced his bloodied, plain boxer shorts with a new, crisp, white pair, but Max still shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Max—" She started, but hesitated as she reran the possible branches of where this conversation could lead, depending on her approach. She wanted to scream at him about what the Hell he thought he was going to accomplish by trying to run off, but she already knew the answer—some kind of mix of "unburdening" her of himself, and some self-indulgent angst about their past relationship. And she had taken notice of a shift in atmosphere between them, which wasn't so much as uncomfortable, but rather broken off. Max blinked slowly, sadly, and stared at his knuckles, purposefully keeping his eyes away from her. She sighed—better to go the professional route, she decided. "Your wound's been widened slightly. A few centimeters in diameter—nothing catastrophic, but it will extend your need for supervision."

He didn't raise his head, only pressed his lips to keep himself from muttering curses as he wanted to. Scarlett waited a moment, unsure if he planned to respond, and after a few more seconds he nodded his head slightly, still focused despondently on his hand. Scarlett tilted her head somewhat, unaccustomed to a somber Max, before continuing.

"Alright." She stood and straightened her lab coat, carefully ignoring the smear of blood on the front of it. "Make sure to rest. The droids will bring you dinner at 6:00 PM."

She waited again, but only got his dull frown towards his fingers as a response. She wanted to try and prompt him into responding with an additional remark, as social needs want, but restrained herself. Instead she ignored her discomfort towards her normally chatty ex-partner's dismal silence, and left to distract herself from his presence with projects.

* * *

It didn't work, of course.

Scarlett stirred her dinner—pasta in a cream sauce—and stared at one of her monitors idly. She had turned the monitor with the camera footage of Max's room off, since that seemed to be the only way she could manage to keep her eyes off of it. She drug a forkful of noodles up above the plate, watching them drip and dangle helplessly in the air, before setting them back down to their now-lukewarm brethren.

"I hate you." Scarlett told her dinner, which unwillingly substituted as Max for the evening, since she was banned from looking at him for the rest of the night. "I really do."

She sighed unhappily and set her fork down against the plate's edge. She leaned back into her chair, catching sight of the currently black-screened monitor that should show her ex-partner lying helplessly in bed, before darting her eyes away and scolding herself. A thought crossed her mind that asked her if she truly _did_ hate Max, or just said it so often to remind herself that she _should_. Said "thought" was lucky it was an intangible concept of mental processes, and therefore could not be killed for suggesting such a stupid thing. Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in the back of her throat—she had every possible right and ability to hate him; the idea that _she_, an evil genius, would decide to _not_ hate him, when so much evidence could be brought forth that she indeed _should_ hate him, was absurd.

And yet, she struggled.

Against her will her mind brought her back to a time when she had been attracted to him. She hissed in spite at her own overpowered conscious, but it was futile—the memories flashed in an instant, months of emotional and social build-up rushed through her mind in mere seconds, flying too quickly for her to wretch them from her sight and bury them into the back of her skull where they belonged.

She remembered their beginning partnership—after their stint on _Total Drama: Pahkitew Island_—and how easily she could scare Max into withdrawing his arrogance and replace it with trembling loyalty. As time passed, however, she got lazy and he got braver. He took more and she bit less—how _stupid_, she reminded herself. She would throw him a warning tone, and he would wave her off, knowing now his boundaries to not push further, but still not have to retract his insult. Scarlett sneered; she should have bit off his head for some of the irritating things he did and said, and yet, he got away unscathed. She grew too comfortable, too settled with his pompous behavior, too accepting that there was work to be done, and Max's annoying personality was just a skip in their otherwise perfect record of work. It was all just a bump that could be ignored, until it had grown into a mass that needed to be extracted, and she had done so with little kindness. _"But what about the times before that?" _Her mind prompted her, and in a flash she was pulled back to before her escape from that wretched existence below such a worthless man. Her eyes winced; they had gotten so close.

They had moved in together after high school—Scarlett insisted on going to a University, and whether through loyalty or affection or fear of abandonment, Max followed like a fly to the aroma of food. They paid for a small rental home with royalties from worthless infomercial inventions they had made while still in high school, and stowed away extra cash by debugging hardware or selling coding programs. They had built a substantial laboratory far below their rental home, as to keep it hidden from any future tenants after their departure, and it was there that their experiments grew. But it was the work they completed above ground that hitched in Scarlett's mind now. Even with their inventing and Scarlett's class schedule and schoolwork, they somehow found themselves with a lot of down time. Anymore she wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but they spent a lot of time enjoying each other's company. Max would cook for the both of them and they would relax on the sofa together and ridicule or praise the sci-fi or science channels' programs. And sometimes, against her judgment and ethics, she would lean against him—and sometimes, he would move his arm so she could rest more comfortably against him, and somehow his arm would end up against her back, and they would rest like that for hours, laughing at conspiracy theories, or inaccuracies in historical findings.

Scarlett felt her cheeks burn—from shame, she convinced herself—shame for letting her social needs eclipse herself so horribly. And that wasn't even as bad as it got. She tried to ignore the quick remembrance of the nights that her "toys" did little to subdue her whirling hormones, and she would think of him instead; the smell of the cologne that he wore too much of, the feel of his skin, how thick his fingers were—she shook the memory from her thoughts before it could continue.

"I was a stupid girl then." She spoke out to the nothingness around her. "It meant nothing—nothing but what the opposite sex _would_ mean to a hormonal, male-interested, _stupid_ girl."

She sat up again, resting her forehead in her palms. Those feelings fade, especially with time and with new partners to idle your mind, she reminded herself. Still, the heat continued to radiate from her cheeks. Scarlett began to pick at her dinner once more, contemplating her hatred for Max as she did. Perhaps it wasn't the man _specifically_, but all that he represented; most notably, _all of_ _her faults_. He was the icon—the manifestation, even—of every mistake she had made in her youth. She had been _soft_ with him. Forgiving, passive. She had let him get away with so much—had let him drag her down, _slow_ her down. All she could see when she looked at him was how foolish she had been as a teenager, which of course, was the only time they had been together. Max could have grown into a well-kept, mature, suave Man of Evil, but it was worth nothing if the mere sight of him filled her with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"So it's irrelevant then." Scarlett answered her nagging thought, before biting down on her forkful of noodles.

* * *

It had been two days since Max's little stint, and Scarlett was beginning to find his silence unnerving. She presumed he was attempting to keep out of her way, but the atmosphere was so weighted with his somberness that she could hardly breathe. She was almost beginning to miss his pathetic attempts at chit-chat. Against her better judgment, she decided she had to break the silence, but she'd need a topic. As she looked over his condition VIA data charts, she noticed the half-eaten lunch cast aside on the table beside his bed. That was the third time she'd seen one of his meals left unfinished since he tried to run off.

"Max, you need to eat." Scarlett lowered her eyes on the plate before turning back to the monitor, relieved to have the silence of the room disrupted. Unfortunately, the discomfort grew back the longer Max chose to postpone his response. When it again felt unbearable, he spoke.

"I haven't had much appetite." He murmured. Scarlett looked towards him for a moment before looking to the computer screen again.

"Be that as it may, you need nutrition to repair the damage to your body." She adjusted her glasses and stood, looking at him directly now. Max looked to her long enough for Scarlett to take note of how tired his eyes were, before he looked away again. Scarlett wrinkled her nose on one side, refusing to be concerned. She continued. "If you're unwilling to eat, I'd be more than happy to supply you the nutrients needed through an IV."

"That would be fine." Max answered, staring at the opposite wall with half-lidded eyes. Scarlett's eyebrow ticked up slightly—Max had never been one to waste food. In fact, he used to get on her quite regularly when they lived together about not finishing her meals. Her eyebrows furrowed; very concerning.

"Or is it perhaps—" Scarlett hesitated, but was unable to stop herself. "—that my droids' cooking has finally become intolerable?"

Her sentence finished with an unfortunately playful tone, which made Max looked up at her in slight surprise. Scarlett tightened her jaw, already scolding herself, but the comment seemed to have the desired effect.

"Wh—no, no. Not at all." Max looked away, awkwardly scratching his knuckle. Scarlett took the moment to smirk slightly; now _that_ sounded much more like the Max she was used to. Well, still oddly passive, but much more Max-like than a despondent man wallowing in self-pity. Her expression fell again before he could look back to her.

"Then I expect you to eat." She raised her chin slightly at the command, folding her hands behind her back. "If you're anything the man I remember, that shouldn't be much to ask."

Max blinked in confusion at the sudden glint in her cold eyes, and continued to stare after her as she turned and left. He rubbed his head, unsure if he was perhaps reading body language wrong again.

"Yes.. yes, that must be it." He nodded, still confused, before lying his head back down, unable to consider Scarlett's comments as anything meaningful.

* * *

AN: See? Scarlett's got a dirty secret ;-) Not sure if that _particularly_ will come up in later chapters, but certainly the attraction will.. anyways, R&amp;R please! Thanks for reading—hope I'll get another chapter out at least _kind-of_ soon.. /sweats


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